


Max the Criminal

by ItsaVikingThing



Series: Ambers Anonymous [1]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Everybody Lives, F/F, Fluff, Let us be very clear there will also be some kissing, Pre-Canon, Seattle based, Shenanigans, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 10:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11895759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsaVikingThing/pseuds/ItsaVikingThing
Summary: Max Caulfield is seventeen and entirely at a loose end one fine summer day in Seattle.Max just wants to shuffle about and take some photos, but unfortunately for her, she's not the only one bored in the city that day.Max is about to meet Rachel Amber. Rachel is about to make Max's day...interesting.Max is about to get into alotof trouble...





	Max the Criminal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lola_McGee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lola_McGee/gifts).



> For Lola_McGee because she's a pal, she's been feeling a bit poorly, and she has a thirst for Amberfield. A sare drouth, in fact...

It happens on the day Max Caulfield is forced out of her home.

Her father, Ryan, says, "I'm sorry. But this is for your own good, honey."

Max thinks he's smirking, under his beard, and that he could really make _some_ effort to sound sympathetic.

Ryan, whose sense of personal style ranges from hipster lumberjack to actual lumberjack, is large enough to almost entirely block the front door of their house.

This is normally a comforting thought to Max. It is not comforting when he is in the house and Max is very definitely _outside_ the house, being blocked.

"You're kicking me out! I'm only seventeen! How can you possibly say that this is _good_?"

"Well," Ryan strokes his beard, thoughtfully. "Because I'm only kicking you out for the morning? While I paint your room?"

"Well, yeah...but-"

" _And_ I'm currently allowing you an opportunity to indulge in some melodramatic behaviour! Which you don't do often, come to think of it. Why is that? Aren't you supposed to be in the drama club?"

Max slumps. Well, she slumps more. Good posture has never been something she and her body have managed to agree on. "Dad, you know I just help make the props."

Max recognises the twinkle in her father's eye, but there's no time to run before he says, "Props to you, girl! Mad respect!"

He holds out his fist. Max ignores it.

"Dad, can we get back to the part where I have to be kicked out of the house? It's just my room you're painting!"

Ryan pointedly looks down at his still extended fist.

Max sighs and listlessly bumps it. "Yay, dad jokes."

Ryan grins. "I'm glad you're choosing to acknowledge how very contemporary I am in my understanding of the kids' lingo. And you spend way too much time around here. It's unnatural. Go out and have fun! Smoke some cigarettes, play in some traffic, drink something other than water or a latte."

"Dad, I don't really..."

Have anywhere to go. Have anything to do. Have any friends...

"...want to," Max concludes, lamely.

"Maxine! It's summer. There's no school. The sun is shining upon us. You have spent most of this week inside, online, hiding. You are going to spend the day outside."

Max _has_ been lurking in her room a lot. But...outside is full of strangers! Max resorts to thrusting out her bottom lip and staring imploringly.

Ryan sighs, but that's as much of a response as Max's puppy-dogging gets her. "Max. C'mon. Go have an adventure! Go make some questionable friends! Make some memories! I worry about how little you give your mother and I to worry about sometimes."

Max groans. There's not much point in arguing any further. And it _is_ a nice day. And she has quite a lot of Polaroid film. And a fresh memory card in her digital camera.

"I guess I could-"

"Great! Bye, honey!"

He slams the door in her face.

Max sighs and drags her feet in the direction of the bus stop. She decides that she'll get coffee. Maybe go to the park and people watch? Try to take a few pictures...

One reason Max has been reluctant to leave her room lately is that she is currently suffering from a friend deficit. Kristen and Fernando have chosen to abandon her in favour of spending their summer vacation actually vacationing.

Max is stuck in Seattle. No small part of the reason she and her folks aren't going anywhere this summer, though, is because Max is going somewhere in the fall.

Blackwell Academy. A new (for her) school in her old home town. Although she earned her photography scholarship, something she still can't quite believe, her parents are still sacrificing financially for her.

Maybe it's a reasonable thing that they ask her to get out of the house and give them peace once in a while.

Max straightens up. She decides to try to embrace the positives of her temporary exile.

Which is when her father reopens the door and yells, "Max! Your mom says don't actually get drunk though! Or do any of the drugs!"

Max whirls round in time to catch him waving and slamming the door again.

She gapes after him for a moment, until a sharp _clack_ makes her look round.

Max flushes. "I-I don't actually drink, Mrs. Johnstone," she explains to the woman pruning her hedge a few feet away. "And I've never even seen a drug that wasn't prescribed!"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, dear." Mrs. Johnstone sniffs and with another _clack_ of her shears, she cuts short one branch's valiant attempt at individual expression. She gives Max a Look. "You just need to make sure you've made things right with Jesus, before the end."

Max swallows, tries to smile, and flees.

* * *

Volunteer Park is, on reflection, a mistake. It's beautiful, and it's great for people watching, but...there are a lot of people here today.

Max isn't good at people. She can sometimes, with a lot of effort, be sociable with a strange _person_ , but people?

People are hard.

Max wanders around the park trying to figure out how to take photographs while she's busy keeping her head down so she can avoid making eye contact with any strangers.

After a few experimental snaps with her SLR confirm that, yes, she has to actually look at what she's shooting if she's going to be able to take a decent picture, Max looks up.

And immediately makes eye contact with a stranger walking towards her.

Said stranger is a very tall, very beautiful girl whose immaculate hair style, makeup, dress sense, and disdainful expression makes Max think about trains.

More specifically, train tracks. More specifically still, that Max is very much from the wrong side of the metaphorical tracks compared to this girl. This girl might as well be surrounded by her own mini set of tracks, so thoroughly from the _right_ side is she compared to everyone around her.

Disdain crystallises into a Platonic ideal of contempt as she looks Max over. She sneers and says something to her friend.

Who is also blonde, and almost as tall, pretty, well-groomed, and contemptuous of Max as Blonde Prime is. This blonde is carrying a very fancy wicker picnic hamper.

In fact, there's a whole group of good-looking, well-dressed, sneering rich kids with them, all armed for a picnic.

The other girl looks at Max and sniggers. She says, loudly, "You're so right, Victoria!"

Max tries to get past them without violating anyone's personal space, but not one of them moves aside for her, which makes it challenging. Max winds up brushing against Blonde Prime, who snaps, "Don't touch me! God!"

Max shrinks inside her hoodie. She lowers her head and squeezes awkwardly past the rest of them, trying to ignore their laughter. Max keeps her gaze firmly fastened on the ground after that.

Which is how, a few steps later, she manages to run into a complete stranger.

"Oh! I-I'm so sorry!" Max blurts the words, backing away and looking up and...

It's yet another blonde girl. For the second time in less than a minute Max has to overwrite the 'most beautiful person she's seen in real life' file in her head.

This girl's got a rucksack slung over her shoulder. She's wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a white t-shirt with a logo that reads: _What if the Hokey Pokey really is what it's all about?_ She looks almost unfairly good.

In what Max can only think of as a warmly smiling voice, the girl says, "Don't worry about it. You okay?"

"Um, yeah. Just really clumsy. S-sorry. Uh, bye!"

Max tries to step around the other girl, who tries to get out of Max's way, only for them to bump into each other again.

The other girl laughs. "My fault that time! Sorry!"

She has a _really_ nice laugh, Max notes. And she smells good, with overtones of nice, and just a delicate hint of what Max thinks might be lovely.

Max finds herself fervently hoping she remembered to put on deoderant before she was kicked out. She battles the impulse to sniff her armpit to check.

The other girl smiles and says, "Do you really need to run off? I'm-"

And Max, by now brick red, sweating, embarrassed, and with sudden swarms of butterflies emerging from suspected, but until now unconfirmed, pupae in her stomach, blurts, "S-sorry! I...toilet!"

Max doesn't run away. Not really. She just...decides to go somewhere else. Very quickly. And to never, ever go back to the park for the rest of her life.

She risks one look back, and almost trips when she sees the beautiful girl watching her, tapping a thoughtful finger against her chin.

* * *

So of course, no sooner has Max left that humiliating scene and her heart slowed down, than she discovers that she's dropped her phone.

Max groans. "I'm so freaking clumsy!"

Max spends an anxious minute pacing, fretting, and muttering to herself before glumly concluding that she has to go back.

She's lucky inasmuch as the mean kids are all gone, at least. Luckier still that the other girl is gone, too.

Definitely lucky. Max is relieved and not at all disappointed that she'll never see that girl again.

Max would only embarrass herself.

Max retraces her steps, but there's no sign of her phone, either.

She groans and pushes her hair around in the hopes that it's just her bangs, which do need a trim, that are preventing her from locating her phone.

And then something odd happens.

Max hears a phone ringing, not far away. She looks around and spots a smart phone balanced on a rock a few feet away.

It's an unfamiliar ringtone, but...how many lost phones are likely to be lying around near where Max lost hers?

She goes over and picks it up. As soon as she does, it stops ringing. Max blinks.

It is not her phone. Her phone is nice and all, but this phone, and its case, are _expensive_.

Max frowns. This must belong to one of the rich kids, but...how did it end up here? And where is Max's phone?

"Holy shit! I can't believe this!"

"Chill, Victoria! We-we'll find it!"

Max looks up. Blonde Prime, wrath emanating from every scowl line on her face, stomps up the path, Beta Blonde fluttering nervously beside her.

Max blinks. She wonders if she's found Blonde Prime's phone...

Max is about to say something, but the phone in her hand starts ringing again.

The Blondes both react to the sound by immediately staring at Max. Max gapes back.

"Um...I think I found your-"

"Holy fuck, did you steal my fucking phone?"

"What?! No, I just-"

"Taylor, give me your phone. I'll call the police while you grab her."

Taylor hesitates. "Uh, Victoria...should I be grabbing criminals?"

"I'm not a criminal! I _found_ your-"

Victoria rolls her eyes. "It'll be fine. She's a loser. Phone!"

Taylor reluctantly passes her phone to Victoria. Even more reluctantly, she takes a step towards Max.

"Um...you can have it back?" Max offers, weakly.

Victoria scoffs as she dials. "I'm _taking_ it back. And you're fucking paying for wasting my time." Victoria holds Taylor's phone to her ear. "Taylor? Grab her, for fuck's sake! What's the point of all those martial arts classes if you never use them?"

"Martial arts?" Max squeaks. She backs away, nervously. "Um..."

Taylor looks nervous, too. "Uh, Victoria? It was, like, six weeks of fencing and I don't have my foil with me, so..."

Victoria rolls her eyes. "The criminal didn't know that, dumbass. Ugh! Find a stick or something, then."

Taylor looks around, taking in the complete lack of trees in the immediate vicinity. "Maybe a rock...?" she ventures.

Victoria just huffs in annoyance.

"You don't need a stick! Or a rock!" Max shakes her head frantically. "No, no! This is just a misunderstanding! I-"

At which point, someone does grab Max. The girl from before seizes Max's hand in her own (astonishingly soft) one.

She looks Max in the eye and says, "Run!"

She takes off at a sprint, dragging Max with her.

And since it's a choice between falling over and being left at the mercy of Victoria, or running away with the most beautiful person she's ever seen, after due consideration, Max decides to go with the latter option.

* * *

They run.

Her rescuer steers Max around -- and sometimes over -- such obstacles as people, dogs, rocks, more people, benches, a confused squirrel, and a bunch of yet more people.

Max isn't sure how long it takes them to get out of the park, or how she doesn't trip over even once, or when she starts laughing, but some time later, that's where they are. On Capitol Hill, sweaty, giggling, and miraculously unbruised.

"Oh, shit! That was too funny! I'm Rachel, by the way."

Max shakes her head. "Max. Oh...oh, my dog! That was crazy!"

Rachel grins at her, and it's the most perfectly dazzling expression Max has ever had directed at her. "So, Max...why'd you steal her phone?"

"I didn't! I just found it, and..."

Max trails off because Rachel is pointing at Max's hand. Which is still clutching Victoria's phone.

"Oh. Oh, no! I _am_ a criminal!"

Rachel laughs again. "I believe you when you say you just found it. And you're willing to return it, right?"

"Of course!"

"Well, then! You're not a criminal. We just need to let the heat die down and then we can arrange giving it back. Simple."

Max suspects it won't be _that_ simple. "Um...Blonde Prime called the police, I think. That's...going to make things tricky..."

"Blonde Prime?" Rachel throws back her head and laughs. "That's perfect."

Max finds herself looking at Rachel's throat, and her neck, and what she can see of her collarbones, and...yanks her gaze away guiltily just a second after Rachel catches her staring.

Or seems to. She doesn't mention Max's rudeness. She just smiles and says, "I'm pretty sure if she was serious about that, she'd have just called them instead of threatening to do it. I'd lay good odds there's more than just sandwiches and sparkling water in that hamper of theirs, and they won't want the police looking at them too closely. Still, we should clear the area, to be safe."

"Uh, I guess? But then, how will I get this back to her?"

Rachel tilts her head, her hair cascading over her shoulder in flawless waves to reveal a blue feather earring on her left ear. "Max. It's a phone? So..."

Max groans and lowers her head. Max isn't stupid, but...she's not great at quickly adjusting to new situations. "Right. Of course...she'll probably call or something."

"Or something. We'll figure it out." Rachel is suddenly right in front of Max, rubbing her hand gently up and down Max's arm and making Max wish she wasn't wearing long sleeves. "Hey. Everything's going to be fine. Let's just get moving for now, okay?

They start walking, Max automatically following Rachel's lead. They're near enough the same height, but Rachel's stride is much longer, forcing Max to hurry a little.

"Um, thanks. For pulling me out of there. I...why did you, actually?"

Rachel shrugs. "You're welcome. And, frankly, I was hoping I'd run into you again."

"Oh." Max struggles to work that one out. "Why? I made a horrible first impression. And second impression. And third, I guess..."

Rachel laughs. "You made an _excellent_ first impression on me. I was just disappointed you ran off so quickly. And..." She pauses, so Max stops too. Rachel tilts her head again, and studies Max intently. "I believe in destiny, Max. I think we met for a reason." Rachel grins. "That, and I like your face."

"Uh...I don't know if I believe in destiny, but..." Max rubs the back of her neck and frantically tries to think of something to say. "I...like your face, too?"

Max wishes she'd thought of almost anything else to say.

But Rachel just laughs, and not in a way that feels like she's laughing _at_ Max. She just seems...happy.

"Well, thank you. I think we've established that we both have excellent taste in faces. We're getting along famously! Now, do you know what we need?"

Max tries to think, but ruefully shakes her head. Her conscious brain is too busy waging war on the subconscious parts that want to stare openly at Rachel

"We need..." Rachel grins. "A hideout!"

Max blinks. "You know I'm not actually a criminal, right? I don't have one of those."

"Hmm." Rachel taps her chin. She's wearing pink nail polish, and, Max notices, there's a tiny black skull painted in the centre of the nail. "Well...what about your place?"

Max's lungs briefly stop working. "Hhhh...uh...m-my place?"

"Whoah, easy Max! That was just a joke!"

Rachel's whole body radiates alarm, so Max forces air into her lungs and quickly pushes it out again in what she hopes are intelligible words. "I...no, I mean...uh, of course it was a joke, haha! But...it's being painted, anyway, which is why I'm outside, so...um...we can't."

Rachel raises an eyebrow, but she relaxes again. She says, overly brightly, "Well, I'm just visiting your city, so my place is out, too. Oh, well! This is the land of coffee shops. Take me to one."

Max feels a weird mix of relief and disappointment. She shuffles her feet, mostly to do something with all the adrenaline that's lingering in her system. "Uh, well, some of the best coffee places in the city are around here, so-"

"No." Rachel shakes her head. "I don't want what some magazine or website thinks the best place is. I want you to take me to your very own personal favourite. I want to see _your_ Seattle, Max."

And Max thinks that that's perhaps the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to her. Even if _that_ kind of romance isn't what Rachel has in mind. Which it clearly isn't, because how could it be? But...the idea is so breathtakingly romantic to Max that for a moment she just stares at Rachel, who seems quite content to stare back.

Max thinks she's getting by far the better end of this deal. Then she shakes herself and says, "Okay. I'll...okay."

Rachel grins. "Lead on, Max! I can't wait to see what you want to show me!"

* * *

Fifteen minutes later Rachel pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. "Starbucks, Max? Really?"

Max winces. "Uh...this is where I like to go, Rachel..."

"Is it...special somehow?"

"Oh, the really fancy one is usually too busy, so I don't go there."

"Uh...huh. Is there a barista crushing on you in there? Do you get free coffee?"

Max laughs. "Oh, come on. No! There's nobody crushing on me. I just...like this place. There's free wifi!"

Rachel rolls her eyes. " _That's_ your priority? We're wrongly accused fugitives from justice on a high stakes adventure, Max! I...wait, _nobody_? That simply is not true."

"Well, no one's admitting it, if they are." Max shrugs and hopes she looks as nonchalant as she does not, in fact, even remotely feel. "It's okay. I mean...so what, right?"

Rachel frowns. "Max...we will be discussing this. Later. But for now..."

Rachel grabs Max's hand and marches down the sidewalk, dragging Max with her.

Rachel leads them into the glowing neon bath of Espresso Vivace's signage. It's a coffee stand, rather than a cafe, though there are a few tables and chairs on the sidewalk.

All of them are occupied.

"Okay. Get us coffee while I get us a table."

"There are no tables, Rachel."

"Of course there are. Look at them all!"

"There are people using them, though..."

Rachel sighs and pats Max on the head. "Max, Max, Max. People are the easiest thing in the world. Now. I think I'll have a latte, if you'd be so kind. Five sugars, please."

" _Five_?" But Rachel's gone, striding towards a table occupied by a couple of young men who look suspiciously...fratty. Max hopes they're not going to end up sharing a table with them.

* * *

They don't, of course. By the time Max has secured their coffees, Rachel's more of a caffeine-coated sucrose delivery system than anything else, the only person sitting at the table is Rachel.

Rachel eagerly accepts her coffee and takes a hearty sip. "Ahhh, thank you Max. Stirred to perfection, too."

"How did you...?"

"Get rid of them? I just told them my girlfriend's sciatica was playing up. You know you squirm a lot, even when you're just standing around? You scrunch your face up, too. That's quite useful." Rachel ponders for a moment. "And very cute," she adds, meditatively.

Max tries not to think about how hard she's blushing. She carefully puts her coffee down and pushes it out of the reach of her limbs, in the event that they should suddenly have to flail. "You told them _I'm_ your...girlfriend?"

"Well, it was a ruse, obviously. I didn't want them taking the wrong kind of interest."

Max isn't sure how to feel about any of that, but she's intensely aware that she's feeling a lot of things right now, and wishes she'd bought tea instead of a latte. Still, with the dangerous question asked and answered, Max decides it's safe to pick up her drink.

Max is taking her first sip when Rachel says, "Of course...you _have_ just bought me coffee. And I'm having so much fun! So...I'd say the odds of you scoring a second date are high, Max. You're girlfriend material, for sure!"

Max chokes, coughs, spills some of her coffee, and generally does every awkward thing she's been trying to avoid doing in the space of a second and a half.

Rachel just smirks and takes another sip of her coffee.

Although there are many things that Max could, or should, say, she finds herself blurting, "How are your teeth so white?"

Rachel cradles her chin in her hand and counters, "How are your eyes so _blue_?" Rachel sighs dreamily. "I could stare into them for hours."

Max ducks her head. She grabs her coffee and takes a quick gulp. She hopes Rachel will think her leg is jiggling because of caffeine jitters.

Rachel laughs softly. "I'm teasing. But only a little. You're by far my favourite part of this Seattle trip, Max."

Max gulps air this time and jumps at the chance to steer the conversation somewhere, _anywhere_...safer. "Uh...are you here on vacation?"

"Kind of? I'm just through for a couple of days. Hanging with some friends. Well, I say friends, but...they're assholes, for the most part."

"Oh." Max sips some coffee, still not looking directly at Rachel. "So why'd you want to hang out with them?"

"Really good booze and drugs."

Max looks up, startled.

Rachel sticks her tongue out at her. "Made you look!"

"I thought you were serious!" Max snorts. "Man, I'm gullible."

"No, no. I wasn't entirely kidding. Some of my friends aren't so bad, and I do like partying with them, but...it turns out, they only work as friends in small doses. I've reached my limit with them for the day. I'm honestly much happier hanging with you."

Rachel looks...utterly sincere.

"I'm...glad I bumped into you, too. I'm...sort of on my own, right now. I mean, I have friends!"

"Of course you do, Max! You're a sweetheart."

"Uh..." Max rubs her neck some more. "I don't have a _lot_ of friends, though. I...don't really party, or anything. A-anyway, my friends are out of town, so...I was just going to wander round and...I'm really lame, to be honest."

"You are _not_. You're charming, Max."

"I...well, I'm glad you think so, I guess."

"I do," Rachel says, firmly. "Not to mention the fact that you're kind. You're taking time out of your day to help make a stranger in your fair city feel welcome. That's downright noble!"

Max laughs. "Oh, come on! I'm just...I have no idea what I'm doing, really..."

Rachel's smile softens. "You're doing fine, believe me."

They're quiet for a while after that, but Rachel seems entirely comfortable, and Max realises that she needs a few minutes just to catch up with herself.

As Max retreats inward, Rachel looks around her with interest, taking in the streets and the people passing.

Max sips her coffee, and tries to think calming thoughts. But she just finds all of her thoughts turning to the girl across the table from her.

So Max just watches Rachel watching everything around her. And Max finds herself calming down. She becomes content, in fact, sipping coffee and looking at Rachel's face. She decides that no matter how long she might study Rachel's face, she could never learn everything there was to learn. But it would be a rewarding and worthwhile use of her time, nonetheless.

Max doesn't know how much time passes before Rachel says, "You should take my picture."

Max flushes and wrenches her gaze away. "Sorry! I shouldn't stare...sorry."

But Rachel just laughs. "Max, that wasn't passive aggression! I really don't _do_ passive. I mean what I say, unless I'm lying. Which I'm not, right now. I'd love it if you took my picture. You're a photographer, aren't you?"

Max looks up and bites her lip. "I...just because I have a camera, it doesn't make me a photographer."

"Being aware that there's a distinction between people with cameras and photographers inclines me to put you in the latter category," Rachel says, smugly.

"I'm not very good, Rachel."

Which isn't _quite_ a lie. Other people have said Max's photographs are good, but Max isn't sure -- not really, truly sure -- she has any talent. The fact that Kristen and Fernando tend to like everything she puts on Instagram indiscriminately doesn't help. Max wishes sometimes one of them was the kind of friend who could tell her when her work sucks.

Rachel watches her intently. "I'm willing to bet that that's you being modest. But...even if it _is_ true, then you just need more practice. So, practice on me!"

And there's an infectious quality to Rachel's confidence, maybe, because Max finds the courage to say, "Well, I guess I can't go too far wrong with you as a subject."

Rachel lights up at the compliment. She leans towards Max, positively beaming. Max's mouth dries out.

"That's so sweet of you to say! True, of course!" Rachel winks, and laughs cheerfully. "But very sweet of you to say."

Max is blushing again, but finds she doesn't mind so much right now.

Automatically, Max reaches into her bag and pulls out her Polaroid.

Rachel blinks, confused. "Whoah! What is that?"

And every bit of confidence Max was feeling evaporates into the summer air.

Max wants to be a photographer. She wants it more than she's ever dared admit to anyone, even herself. And part of it, deep-rooted in her, is so difficult to explain, but...it's like this: the SLR is a thing that Max uses. The Polaroid is her camera. Most people don't take it seriously, but Max is at her most serious, her most intent, her most... _honest_ when she's using it.

To Rachel, Max says, "Oh! Uh, it's just a dumb Polaroid camera. I thought...sorry. I'll use the SLR for your shot, don't worry."

Rachel's quiet for a few seconds. "Can I see the Polaroid? I'll be very careful," she adds, when Max hesitates.

Max hands it over reluctantly. Rachel carefully turns the camera over and examines it, then gives it back. Max sighs with relief, and goes to tuck it away again.

She stops, when Rachel says, seriously, "You love that camera."

Max bites her lip. Rachel is still leaning across the table, but she looks solemn. "Tell me."

Max whispers, "...yeah. I love it." She clears her throat. "It's...I like analogue cameras. I prefer them to digital. But...there's something about the old Polaroids. I mean, I know this isn't a great camera. But...you have to be spontaneous, and creative, to get a great shot. And you never know how it'll develop...but it's never the same way twice. Every shot is...unique. And you only get so many chances with this thing. You can't just...shoot a whole roll, or fill a memory card and pick the best shot later. You have to try to _make_ the best shot. Every time. And it just feels... _more_ , somehow. Ah...it's dumb. I'm boring you. Sorry."

"I am _not_ bored." Rachel takes a firm, but gentle, grip of Max's free hand. "You, Max, are a fucking artist. You've got the passion in you. Don't you ever apologise to anyone for loving your art. I'm _honoured_ you want to shoot me with your Polaroid."

Max doesn't really know Rachel, of course. But...she has an intuition that this is a side of herself she doesn't show just anyone. The teasing, the playfulness, has been set aside, revealing a fierce conviction that Max recognises. She's felt it herself, though rarely, so very rarely, and only when looking through the viewfinder. But she recognises that conviction in Rachel, nonetheless, and she offers her a smile.

Rachel slowly smiles back, and nods. "Good. _Good_."

"Okay. Um..." Max looks around. "Huh. Maybe with the neon lighting you...?"

Rachel glances past Max. "Oh. _Shit_."

Max winces. "You don't like that idea, huh?"

"What? No, it sounds cool! But...that's Victoria coming towards us."

Max snorts. "Right. Uh, really?"

Max looks over her shoulder. Victoria is coming towards them, with Taylor at her shoulder, and the rest of her crew not far behind. Max quickly looks back at Rachel. "Oh, dog, she looks so mad!"

Rachel purses her lips. "Um...yeah, we should go. Just...ease out of your seat and walk away. Don't look back. When we get round a corner, we'll run like crazy."

"Or...I could just give her her phone back?"

Rachel slips out of her seat and crouches beside it. "Let her cool off, first! Trust me, we should go!"

Max hesitates.

Victoria yells, "YOU!"

Her voice jams needles of ice into Max's spine.

"I can't believe you're fucking with me like this! Give me my shit back, right now!"

Rachel raises an eyebrow. Max tucks her Polaroid into her bag and nods.

They run.

* * *

Rachel is sure-footed, agile, nimble, fleet. She guides them through the streets, laughing, and dodging and pulling Max along with her.

Max marvels at Rachel's grace, and then a few things begin to line up in her head. Because Max is slow, sometimes, and she struggles to adjust to new situations, but Max really isn't stupid.

She lets Rachel guide her, trusting that she won't come to harm, even as she begins to think that trusting Rachel isn't the smartest thing she's ever done.

Rachel darts into the deep recess of a doorway and pulls Max in with her. She's flushed, and giggling breathlessly, and she's so beautiful, and warm, and close, it hurts Max a little.

Max needs a few seconds to get her breath back, but when she does, she says, "Rachel...we need to talk. I think you-"

Rachel's eyes widen. "Oh, shit! Blonde Prime's henchpeople! Just follow my lead, Max."

Rachel's hand seize Max's hips and suddenly she's flush with Rachel. Max opens her mouth, to protest, perhaps, though most of her brain is giddy at this turn of events. She doesn't get a word out, though, because Rachel kisses her.

Rachel's lips are soft, her breath is sweet, and though it's all happening so suddenly, she's gentle, too.

Until Max starts kissing back, and then, license given, Rachel becomes insistent, hungry. Her tongue explore Max's mouth, her teeth nip at Max's lip, she gasps against Max's face, and squeezes her hips, and...

Abruptly, it's over. Rachel eases back from Max. Just an inch or so, but that's all it takes. Max flushes, and tries to find somewhere to look that isn't Rachel. If it wasn't for one of Rachel's fingers curled in a belt loop of Max's jeans, Max would probably run again.

"They're gone," Rachel says. Her voice is odd, and tight.

Max peeps at her face. Rachel is blushing, too. She smiles at Max, uncertainly.

Max closes her eyes and tries to think over the din of her body's urgent and incessant biology.

"Rachel..."

"Too much? I...look, Max, I won't lie. I liked that, and-"

Max takes a deliberate step back. She says, "Can I have my phone back, please?"

For a moment, it looks like Rachel's going to lie; then Max would be able to just hate her, and it would be simple.

But Rachel just deflates, and says, "Oh. It's...I already put it back. It's in your bag."

Max checks, and there it is.

"How did you know I took it...?" Rachel sounds curious, and maybe a little nervous.

Max sighs. "I'm clumsy. I drop things, lose them. I trip up a _lot_. You haven't taken a single wrong step all day. Except when you bumped into me that second time."

"Shit." Rachel blinks. "You're right, that's when I took it."

Max nods, slowly. "And...it's the only way it all made sense."

Rachel tilts her head. "All what made sense?"

Max closes her eyes. "I didn't tell you Victoria's name. You knew it. She's one of your asshole friends. You were dragging your heels, or you'd wandered off and you were just catching up with them when I bumped into you. You stole my phone, and hers, too. You set me up."

"No! I mean, not exactly..."

"And back there, Victoria wasn't yelling at me. She was yelling at _you_. She said she wanted her shit back. Not her phone, her _shit_. Implying that you stole some other things, too. Was it their drugs? Their booze? Were you going to blame it all on me?"

Max opens her eyes. Rachel's staring at her, mouth agape and shock in her eyes.

She's still stupidly beautiful, and that's not unfair. Not really. What _is_ unfair is that she made Max think that someone like Rachel could be interested in someone like Max.

Rachel says, slowly, "Holy shit, Max! You're like...some kind of fucking detective!" She grins, seemingly delighted. But she's probably just entertained.

Max shakes her head. Her body is shaking, too. Max fumbles in her pockets until she finds Victoria's phone. "Here. Give it back, or keep it, or whatever. I...fuck!"

All at once, the world is a very blurry place.

Max runs.

* * *

She doesn't get very far. Just a few streets, nowhere near far enough, but she has to stop, for two reasons.

The first is that she's crying too hard to see very well.

The second, related to the first, is that she runs right into Victoria.

"Fuck! Watch where you're... _you_! Give me back my phone, bitch! Or I'll-"

"I don't have your stupid phone! I didn't steal it, and I didn't mean to run off with it! Rachel has it! Go bother her and leave me the fuck alone! ALL of you! Just...leave me alone..."

"Rachel...of fucking course..." Victoria sighs. She clicks her fingers and snaps, "Taylor!"

Max jumps when a hand tentatively pats her back. She quickly dries her eyes and is surprised to find that Taylor is the patter. Taylor grimaces, but Max thinks she's trying to smile, so that's something.

Still, Max disengages from Taylor, quickly scrubs her face with her sleeve, and tries a smile of her own. "Look, I'm...sorry. For all this."

Victoria, busy texting, just grunts. "Whatever. Fucking Rachel Amber."

Taylor says, "Rachel's...um, a prankster? She's always pulling shit. Don't worry about it."

Max fights back a fresh wave of tears. "Right. Yeah. She pranked me, for sure."

Max begins to shuffle away, not really sure what else to say. She wants the sanctuary of her room, but she knows it will still be reeking of paint, and she doesn't want to bring her blotchy, tear-stained face home until she's had a chance to clean it up a little.

Victoria looks up at her, scowls, and returns to her phone. No, it must be _Taylor's_ phone. "You. With the ugly hoodie. You wait right fucking there."

Max thinks about running, but Taylor gently touches her arm, and says, "It's okay. Seriously. Just chill with us for a minute."

Max doesn't point out that the odds of her chilling anywhere in Victoria's vicinity are remote.

Taylor evidently sees some of that thought on her face though, because she says, "I wasn't really going to hit you with a rock." She glances at Victoria, and bites her lip. "Probably?"

Max sighs. "Thanks, Taylor..."

She smiles sunnily. "You're so welcome!"

"Taylor." Victoria slips Taylor's phone into her pocket. "Nathan has my cigarettes."

Taylor nods. Then she stiffens, and blurts, "Oh! I'll be back as quick as I can!"

She rushes off.

Max shakes her head. "Wowser! You're...kinda bossy with her..."

Victoria snorts. "Oh, yes, allow me to take to heart the words and wisdom of someone who says 'wowser'. You don't know shit about me, anyway."

Max hangs her head. "Uh, so...what did you want to talk about?"

"With _you_? Fucking nothing! God!"

"Then why did you send Taylor away and make me wait?"

"You're both waiting for me."

Max looks round, and there's Rachel, fiddling with the strap of her rucksack.

"Finally! Give me my phone." Victoria extends her hand impatiently.

Rachel hands it over.

Victoria's scowl hardens. "And...?"

Rachel snorts. "First, I stole your phone because you were being an asshole. Second, I _didn't_ steal the pot, because it's my pot. I bought it, remember?" Rachel glances at Max. "And none of it is on Max, here. So...fuck off, Victoria."

While Max processes that, Victoria takes a threatening step towards Rachel.

"What about the champagne, Rachel? That shit wasn't yours!"

Rachel laughs. "It was a half-bottle of prosecco, Victoria. I already drank it. Consider it a tax for being insufferable for the past couple of days."

Victoria audibly grinds her teeth. "I'm kicking you out of the Vortex."

"I don't care." Rachel snorts. "You always let me back in, anyway."

"God, you're a pain in the ass! If Nathan didn't...ugh." Victoria's expression doesn't exactly _soften_ , but she seems to pull some of her anger back into her core. "You're not boring, at least. Now, are we having a fucking picnic, or what?"

Rachel hesitates, and looks at Max.

"Because _if_ you're planning on joining the rest of us, fix _that_ first." Victoria's finger pokes Max in the chest. Harder, Max feels, than is strictly necessary. Victoria adds, "Look at her! She doesn't know what you're like. So...deal with it. Then text me. Since I have a fucking phone now."

And with that, Victoria turns and struts away, yanking her phone out of her pocket and catching up on whatever vital business she's missed in the last hour.

Max gawks after her, until Rachel clears her throat. "Hey."

Max looks at Rachel, then down at her feet. "What do you want with me?"

Rachel's quiet for so long, Max begins to think she's left. But at length, Rachel says, softly, "I want you to take me somewhere."

Max rubs the back of her neck, and groans. "Okay," she mutters.

* * *

They're not far from Roy Street Coffee & Tea, and Max needs an infusion of camomile, so that's where she takes Rachel.

Rachel follows her in, looking around approvingly.

They order, Rachel insists on paying, and they sit across from each other at a corner table.

Max doesn't say anything. She just sips some tea and tries to relax. Which is near impossible, with Rachel sitting just a few feet away from her.

Rachel sips a syrupy sludge that began life as an innocent latte. "Huh. This is way better than Starbucks. Why didn't you just bring me here the first time?"

Max decides not to mention that this place is also owned by Starbucks, and just says, "I don't come here all that often. Kristen doesn't like it here, so..."

Rachel frowns. "But you really like this place, don't you? And she's one of your friends?"

"Yeah. Rachel..."

"Yeah." Rachel sighs and puts down her mug. "I guess I've got some explaining to do."

She does, but there's something Max needs to know right now, so she blurts, "Are you and Victoria...?"

Rachel tilts her head. "What? _Together_?" Her expression becomes one of incredulous horror. "Ew, fuck no! She's such an uptight, arrogant, control freak! No way! I'm not seeing anyone right now, Max. I promise."

"Oh..."

Max swallows some tea. Rachel's still nervous, and Max is confused. But she still kind of wants to kiss Rachel, and that's an awful feeling. Max's stomach twists, but she forces herself to say, "Why did you set me up?"

Rachel hesitates. "Well...why did you run?"

Max grits her teeth. "Do you _really_ need to ask?"

"I meant the first time. When you bumped into me."

Max blinks. "Uh...what? I...I guess I was embarrassed. What does that have-"

"I wanted to talk to you. I meant it when I said I thought we were destined to meet. _And_ when I said I liked your face. I mean, I hope it's obvious by now, but...you're really cute, Max. And very sweet. That was my first impression of you, and I tried to talk to you, but you just...ran off!"

"Wait, wait. You'd already stolen my phone by that point!"

"Well...you looked very squirrelly, like you were _about_ to run. And sometimes destiny needs a nudge in the right direction, so..."

"But...you...that's _crazy_. You can't just steal stuff! And what if I hadn't come back for it?"

"Then I would have felt terrible. I'd also crack your password and message one of your contacts. Return it to you that way." Rachel shrugs. "But things worked out!"

"You got Victoria mad at me!"

Rachel giggles, then winces at Max's sour expression. "Sorry, just...it _was_ funny. And...Blonde Prime!"

Rachel laughs again, but relents when Max huffs and folds her arms.

"Look...Victoria was being an asshole, I was bored, and you needed...motivation to hang out with me. Tell me you didn't have fun!"

And Max is forced to admit that, in spite of all the running, and the panic, and having to deal with Victoria, and being comforted by Taylor...she _did_ have fun.

But.

"Why did you kiss me?"

"Seriously?" Rachel stares at her. "Max...you are _really_ cute. And, it turns out, really passionate, and clever...but you weren't going to make a move, so..."

"You tricked me? _Again_? You can't just...manipulate people into doing whatever you want! It's...really fucked up, Rachel."

"I...don't always think before I act." Rachel turns the mug round and round in her hands. "I got carried away, okay? And I didn't mean to take the kiss that far, but...you got really into it, and...I am sorry I tricked you, Max. But I'm not sorry I got to spend time with you." Rachel frowns and jabs a finger at Max. "And I meant that kiss."

"I...you made me feel really uncomfortable, Rachel. I'm not sure how I feel about _any_ of this..."

Rachel sighs. "I know. I...hope you can look back on it as a good time, at least. I know I will. Apart from the part where I made you cry. That's just going to make me feel shitty for...oh, just about forever, I think."

She looks miserable, and contrite, and still very beautiful, and Max imagines she can still taste Rachel's lip gloss, so...under the table, Max tugs her bag into her lap and opens it.

"I don't want you to feel guilty forever...just for a little while." Max smiles, shyly. "You're a scheming jerk, and that makes me really nervous. But you're right. I did have fun. And...I don't regret that kiss."

Rachel grins back. "Well, good. I'm not planning on taking it back, Max!"

"Wait... _can_ you take a kiss back?"

"Well...you could try, I suppose. You'd have to recreate the original conditions, of course." Rachel's smile isn't quite a smirk, there's too many nerves working on her for that.

And maybe Max _is_ stupid, because she thinks that if Rachel is really this nervous talking to Max, then maybe she isn't lying. And _that_ thought makes Max's eyes widen. "You really do...like me?"

"I told you it wasn't true when you said no one was crushing on you." Rachel smiles. "I am."

"Wowser!"

Rachel grins. "I mean, listen to you! Why hasn't anyone else snapped you up already?"

And that's when Max lifts her Polaroid out of her lap and takes Rachel's picture.

* * *

They spend the rest of the afternoon together. It takes Max an hour after they leave the cafe to pluck up the courage to try and hold Rachel's hand, but when she does, Rachel's only too happy oblige her.

They talk about music, and photography, about which Rachel is very knowledgable, to Max's delight. They take another break from their wanders on a bench and Max shows Rachel a few of her Polaroids. The shot of Rachel is among them, and it's perfect, of course.

Rachel turns out to be the kind of person who will tell her when she thinks her shots aren't the best.

She's also the sort of person who tells Max when she thinks her shots are great: loudly, and with enthusiasm, and _insight_. Max is left both dizzy and determined by Rachel's critique.

They head off again, and they trade Max's SLR back and forth, taking pictures of anything that catches their eye. Some of Rachel's shots are excellent, and Max tells her so, and offers to send her copies.

Rachel grins. "You trying to get my number, Max? Or my email? Sorry, but...we're in the hands of destiny. We get today. After that...it's up to fate."

And that breaks Max's mood, if not quite her heart, until Rachel kisses her on the cheek and says, "I _believe_ , Max. We'll see each other again."

Max tugs at Rachel's shirt, and watches Rachel's smile widen, and then they're kissing again. Max's heart feels just fine, apart from the way it's threatening to burst out of her chest until their lips part.

Rachel sighs. "I'm...sort of not feeling punished by the universe for being a manipulative jerk, Max."

And Max should probably admit that that's a good point, and she really shouldn't be rewarding that sort of behaviour in Rachel, but she's too busy kissing Rachel again before she can get to any of that.

* * *

Of course, it doesn't last.

Rachel has to leave in the morning, and she needs to find Victoria since she's crashing at her place.

And Max has to go home and sort through the day's images and memories and try not to think about what it's going to be like not having Rachel around.

"You sure I can't even get your Facebook?"

They're sitting on a bench in the park. Rachel has her arm around Max's shoulders, and Max has her head on Rachel's shoulder, and it's the most comfortable thing she's ever rested on and life is both wonderful and full of tremendous quantities of suck.

"Destiny, Max. Have some faith."

"Well, I want to give you your picture, at least! So you have _something_ to remember me by..."

"That's sweet. But I'm not going to forget you any time soon, so...keep it."

And after that, and a few other, softer things, it's goodbye.

* * *

Of course, Rachel isn't just a manipulative jerk. She's also quite a talented thief.

When Max gets home and empties her bag, the Polaroid of Rachel is gone. There's a half bottle of prosecco in its place.

And Max's lock screen on her phone is now a selfie of Rachel that Max never saw her take. Rachel's also taken the liberty of adding herself to Max's contacts section, because sometimes destiny needs a nudge in the right direction.

Max laughs and throws herself onto her bed in her paint-smelling room and hugs her phone to her chest.

Her father pokes his head round the door. "Hey, honey. I was about to send out a search party. Glad you went outside, then?"

Max grins. "Yeah. I stole someone's phone, and made a _very_ questionable friend, and I've got some alcohol, but none of the drugs. Oh, and I think I have a girlfriend, now, so...it was pretty good!"

He stares at her. "Okay, fine. You win. I'm never letting you out of the house again."

Max laughs and starts typing a message to Rachel.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading folks!


End file.
